


Heat

by ardentmuse



Series: Harry Hart Imagines [29]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Sex, Smut, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 03:55:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17738537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentmuse/pseuds/ardentmuse
Summary: Harry walks in on you having a rather compromising dream and together you make it a reality.





	Heat

“Sweetheart,” a voice called to you, soft and melodic in the haze of your dreams. But you couldn’t hear a thing. All you could register was heat.

Heat coursed through you, overtaking your limbs until your body felt like putty. You felt the ghosting of calloused fingers across your back, down your spine and cupping your rear. Wet, fevered kisses ran down your jawbone and your neck, aiding in the sheer weightlessness of it all. Hands, strong but nimble, traveled down your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake, lower and lower until your breath caught in your throat and settled into an audible groan.

“Sweetheart.”

That time you heard it.

You shifted and turned at the disturbance, only now realizing you were waking from a rather hot and torrid dream, one involving the exact man who currently was hovering over you, concern etched in the creases of his eyes..

“Are you alright?” Harry asked, “I heard you groaning.”

Oh, god, Harry. Here. In your room. Listening to you moan and writhe as your dreams filled with images of him naked and passionate on top of you. Harry — sweet, perfect Harry — catching you in a moment of near orgasm, waking you just as you were about to shout his name. As it all registered, you knew the darkness of your bedroom wouldn’t be enough to hide your embarrassment.

It was impossible to meet his gaze as you pulled the blankets to cover your sweat-coated body. You did your best to make yourself small, to shrink away from the shame that was beginning to wash over you.

“Yes,” you said with a cough, “I’m— I’m fine, Harry, thank you.”

Harry ran his fingers down the length of your shoulder in an effort to provide you comfort but at the feel of his skin against your bare flesh, your mind conjured images from your dreams, that same hand moving with the same softness on very different curves… You recoiled from him in mental protest.

Harry seemed to process the situation instantly. He stood a moment, shocked, but then made for the door as quickly as he could without being completely rude, his eyes also aimed at the floor.

“I’m— I’m sorry for disturbing you. I’ll be right down the hall if you need me for anything.”

You were on the verge of shaking with the waves of embarrassment that kept hitting you. You had yourself buried up to your chin in the blankets and still had yet to look at the beautiful, tall, gentle creature who consumed your waking and sleeping thoughts. But hearing him say those words, “if you need me for anything,” sounded so absurd giving the situation.

You tried to swallow the laugh, but you couldn’t. First you spit, and then a fit of giggles took you. Harry rushed to you in an instant, taking a seat on the empty side of your bed. His hands took your shoulders again without any hesitation. After a moment of really catching your breath, you were able to look at the man you loved.

Galahad was kneeling beside you in the middle of your bed and he was looking at you with a tight front.

“I thought you were crying.”

“‘Need you for anything,’ really, Harry?” you said as you wiped at your tears, “I’m sure you are incredibly eager to help me with these sorts of problems.” Your voice oozed with sarcasm.

You watched the softness enter his eyes. He moved his hand from your shoulder up your neck — the sparks it caused along the path completely undeniable — and caressed at your cheek.

He whispered, so low and quiet that you thought you might have misheard him, “Are you so sure, my love?”

His eyes flicked up to meet your gaze and if you had any doubt about the words he spoke, they were gone now. His gaze was powerful and consuming. It was a long moment of looking and of longing, Harry waging a war in his own mind. But the next thing you knew, his hand ran into the base of your hair and yanked you forward into a bruising kiss.

It was hard not to immediately lose yourself to Harry’s kiss. It was fiery and purposeful in a way you always hoped he might be. His other hand had found the small of your back and was pushing you down to recline. All you could do was move in time with him, in passionate, deep circles of your lips and tongue as his weight pressed down upon you. The feel of him against you, the hard expanse of his stomach and the lithe curves of his arms were so much more perfected than your mind had ever imagined. As his chest pressed down on you in earnest, your entire body called to attention. Your skin had already been heated from your dream but the feel of Harry now had your body shivering. Your nipples perked against the silk of your nightdress, eager to be closer to him and the goosebumps on your neck traveled down your torso as Harry’s hands found the hemline of your pajamas.

Harry was perfect as he kissed you deeply, biting at your bottom lip before gently coaxing your tongue forward to meet his in play. You focused all your energy on that kiss, on the sweet taste of his evening wine still on his tongue and the sparks each pass of light stubble created when he tilted his head. If you weren’t focused on that, you would have been paralyzed by the intoxicating feel of his fingers grazing your thighs and moving higher and higher, pushing your sleep dress right along with it.

Harry growled against your jaw as his hand found the lace lining of your panties. It hadn’t been your intention to dress up for bed, but the lace panties had been a mental motivator from your dinner with Harry and the team earlier this evening. Your love for Harry was becoming debilitating, as you often had to work as partners. His easy smiles and ability to always made you feel safe had you swooning for so long now that it was verging on torture. You had wanted to tell him how you felt, needed to really to move forward with your life and confidence sometimes starts with what you’re wearing.

But dinner came and went and you hadn’t said a word. But maybe words weren’t necessary.

“Perfect,” Harry whispered as his fingers hooked on the fabric, tugging them down just a little. His mouth moved seamlessly from your lips to your jaw and lower, though you felt the absence immensely. Harry sucked at the sensitive skin of your neck as you ran your hands down the length of his back. He was wearing long fleece pajamas. He had to be sweating and so you pulled at the hem to lift it over his head, scratching at his back as you did so. Harry lifted himself from you to assist but when the garment was off and he was hovering over you, taking in your reddened lips and disheveled hair, everything came to a halt.

The air grew thick with what had just occurred. In the silence, you moved your legs together, feeling your underwear sitting low on your hips and cursing at just how quickly everything happened. And now Harry looked confused, and maybe a little angry, and all you could feel was embarrassed once again.

After a beat, Harry sighed and looked away from you.

“I’m sorry I took advantage of the situation,” he breathed, leaving you shocked.

“Harry, no,” you said before you could think, grabbing at his arm to pull his gaze back to you.

When he looked at you again, you could see the hurt in his eyes. He bit his lower lip.

“Is this what you want then?” he asked.

You nodded without thought.

“No nods. I need words, Y/N. Tell me now this was just the heat of the moment and I’ll walk away before I ruin our friendship any further. But say yes, darling,” he said, his tone turning to that of warning, “And know I will not be leaving this bed until you kick me out in the morning to get you breakfast because you’re too tired and sore to do it yourself.”

You took a moment to register as butterflies settled into your stomach. Harry, your sweet, innocent, beautiful Harry, was intending to ravish you and your body so thoroughly you wouldn’t find sleep tonight. He wanted you, as much or maybe more than you wanted him.

“Yes,” you said, “Yes, I want this. I’ve wanted you long enough, Harry. I saw it’s about time we see this thing through, don’t you?”

Harry laughed, “Overdue, in fact.” And with that Harry was upon you again, positioned between your thighs and bearing the entirety of the weight of his long, glorious frame upon you.

And this time, like in your dreams, all you felt was heat; the heat of Harry’s thighs as his flannels were abandoned to the floor, the hot press of his kisses upon your breasts, sucking and pulling at your nipples expertly, like he’d known and loved your body for years, the sweet sensation of skin upon skin, sweat against sweat, as Harry slid his hands to push your thighs upwards and abandon you of those lacy bottoms that he seemed to love so, the hot press of his tongue upon your folds, lapping and devouring your core better than any man before him, the intense friction of his fingers against your bud, moving in time with his tongue to bring you oh so close to release, the fevered strokes of his shaft between your lower lips, coating himself in your fluids and sending shock waves of anticipation through you before pressing patiently into your body, the slow, melodic rhythm of his hips against yours as he pushed you deeper into the mattress, the cold rush of the room air against your heels as you wrapped your legs around his torso, holding him to you as pounded with greater force, long sensual strokes that had you dizzy and needy and uttering a gibberish slew of moans, and finally the warm euphoric comfort of release as waves of pleasure passed through you, making your legs quake and your body go numb around him. Soon Harry followed, filling you with a new kind of warmth, one that came as his eyes met yours as you both caught your breath; the warmth of knowing that no part of this was just sex, but the manifestation of years of desire and love and ardent devotion.

“You’re perfection,” he whispered into the stillness of the night and he pulled himself from inside you. The absence had you saddened, but Harry quickly had you pulled against his chest, curling you around him without any intention of letting go.

“You’re pretty great yourself,” you managed. Harry could only laugh.

“The number of nights I spent dreaming of just this…”

You started to laugh, “You walked in on me dreaming of just this.”

Harry turned to you, running his fingers through your hair. “Don’t get me wrong,” he started, “the sex was— is great. But that’s not what I dreamt of. I dreamt of this, holding you content and spent against my chest in the early hours of the morning, kissing your forehead and telling you I love you without any pressure of Kingsman or decorum inhibiting us.”

His speech, and the thoughts behind them, we simply lovely. But the most lovely part was hearing Harry say what your heart had longed to hear for ages. He loved you.

“I love you, too, Harry,” you whispered just as sleep was about to take you again.

“Sweetheart,” Harry began to say to you, but you couldn’t hear it anyway, only this time there were no dreams to distract you as nothing was better than your reality.


End file.
